“I have come that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” — John 10:10

Christ does not come to mend what is broken—He comes to strike down death itself and offer life that never ends.—D.

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The Lord does not come to smooth out our troubles, to tidy up the wreck we’ve made of our lives, or to make us feel a bit more at ease. He does not waste His hands patching the holes of our broken ways—our crooked trade, our feeble law-making, our stumbling rule. Nor does He bring us some neat plan for balance, some well-formed rule to give us peace in our minds for a spell. We’ve got plenty of charlatans for that, and none of them lead us a step nearer to the truth.

He comes on a wild hunt. He comes to track the oldest foe, the one that waits at the edge of every breath, the shadow that stiffens the spine when the lights go out. He comes to tear death apart, not to mend the things we call wounds, but to strike at the heart of all loss, all fear, all failing. This is not some minor work, some small healing. This is war.

And He does not come to make us safe. He does not come to set us right in our own small ways, to keep our little world from buckling under its own weight. He comes to rip the veil, to split open the world and offer life that does not wither when all else is spent. This is not about ease, not about a few more years or a softer end. This is about eternity. He wakes the dead. He shakes us from our fog-bound walk. He does not offer comfort—He offers life.

And that life is not a fairer shape of what we have now. It is not a better world built from the dust of the old one. It is something new, something real, something that tears down the walls we’ve built around our hearts, that shatters the thin things we cling to. That is what He comes for: not small gains, not a life smoothed out at the edges, but the end of death itself, the breaking of all that binds us, and the kind of life that never ends.